The pre-incarnation of Hermione Granger
by D'ennui
Summary: The insufferable know it all of 1998, Hermione Granger, finds herself transformed into the bookish Mary Bennet while trying to save Snape from death after the battle of Hogwarts. Her fate is now reduced to marrying the most eligible man who will have her. Hermione Granger however, is made of sterner stuff, she will leave leave a mark whenever she may be. HGSS. Slow burn. WIP.
1. Prologue

**_Disclaimer: P &P belongs to JA, though now in the public domain, and HP belongs to JKR and no violation of copyright is intended._**

 ** _Summary:_** _The i_ _nsufferable know it all of 1998, Hermione Granger, finds herself transformed into the bookish Mary Bennet while trying to save Snape from death after the battle of Hogwarts. The war heroine witch now finds herself in a stifling Muggle family, her fate reduced to marrying the most eligible man who will have her. Hermione Granger however, is made of sterner stuff, she will leave a mark in whatever century she inhabits. She is after all, a Gryffindor. HGSS eventually._

 _ **Author's Note:** This story is a crossover between the Harry Potter (book) series and Pride and Prejudice. It will have a degree of drama, adventure and romance (HGSS), though it will build slowly. If you are looking for instant gratuitous smut this is not the story for you. I will attempt to update regularly (1-2 weeks) though it is a work in progress fic (the story arc is plotted, but the chapters have not been written). It is thus a relatively dynamic story and I can incorporate any reader suggestions._

 _I would be grateful if any one is interested in beta-reading as I have no background and little practice in creative writing. I hope to improve my writing skills here, and welcome constructive criticism. Reviews are of course always welcome._ _ **  
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 ** _The pre-incarnation of Hemione Granger_**

 **Prologue**

 **I**

 _2nd May, 1998_

As the adrenaline of victory faded, Hermione could no longer ignore the faces of the injured and the dead: Lavender, never really a friend, but still a lively, vivacious girl, Fred, in whose presence there never could be a dull moment – George would be devastated…and Snape a hero, who died reviled by all. Killed by his "master's" snake. Was it all over so soon? Only two hours ago had Snape duelled Flitwick and McGonagall, and had flown to apparent safety. And half an hour after that, he was lying bleeding red and white on the floor of the shack where he had nearly died twice. Dead only an hour and a half ago. His body could still be warm.

 _Shit! He could still be alive!_

Hermione ran towards the shrieking shack, her beaded bag in hand, jumping over debris and the body of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Mr Weasley had survived in spite of the order reaching him _over an hour_ after Nagini had attacked, she realised. A bit of blood replenishing potion to stabilise…the antidote for the venom could come in later. After all, the beast's venom was not really a toxin, more of an extremely nasty anticoagulant if she remembered correctly. And St Mungo's had the antidote for it anyway. Hermione couldn't believe they had passed Snape up as dead. She prayed as she ran that his carotid artery was intact.

The floor of the shrieking shack was dusty, with bloody footprints and streaks recreating the movements of Voldemort and his pet, being smudged by the slowly trickling flow of blood coming from the rather still body of Severus Snape. Good! There was still blood in Snape to bleed out. Not the carotid, then. With trembling hands (the adrenaline rush was really over now), Hermione rummaged through her bag, extracted the blood replenishing potion and spelled it into Snape with precise wand motions and a crisp incantation. An increase in the trickling flow…it was working! At least a bit of Snape was alive. Hermione hoped there was no brain damage as she knelt down to bandage the wound. She would try to staunch the flow as well as she could, even though St Mungo's antidote would render it moot.

As Hermione put the finishing touches on the bandage, staunching the blood flow almost completely (it was brilliant what knowledge of plumbing could contribute towards first aid), she heard the door of the shack squeak. Before she could turn, there was a flash of light and a sharp transient pain between her shoulder blades where a spell undoubtedly hit her. In a flash, the shrieking shack disappeared, as did everything around her. For a moment, all she could see was her wand, her beaded bag and Snape.

Then, just as suddenly, with another flash of light, she found herself dressed strangely in a gown that belonged to another era, standing on brilliant green grass under a spectacularly clear sky with what looked like an undamaged Hogwarts towering magnificently in the distance and Snape (no longer bleeding) still collapsed on the ground.

It _was_ Hogwarts. Hermione was certain, but found that she could not explain the absence of the shrieking shack or the lack of damage of the building. The only theories that could explain her situation seemed ridiculously far-fetched. Had she travelled in time to before the damage to Hogwarts or a time after its repair? How far back was she, unless gowns came back in fashion? It was difficult to be certain in the wizarding world. Was she in another dimension?

Going to the castle with an injured (nearly dead) man without knowing whether its inhabitants were friends or foes could be suicidal, but Hermione was an exhausted Gryffindor, whose brain had temporarily shut down. In spite of being overwhelmed, dirty and tired, however, Hermione had the presence of mind to cast a disillusionment charm on herself and her former professor as she trudged towards the castle, dragging along Snape with a _mobilicorpus,_ all the while hoping that they wouldn't be greeted by Death Eaters.

Hermione needn't have worried. They were not greeted by Death Eaters. Indeed, they were not greeted by any one at all, for the castle was empty for the summer break and the gates were shut. It seemed as if Hermione's camping days were not over, yet. With a sigh, she forced herself to plod towards Hogsmeade for shelter. The Hogs Head Inn had been there forever. The headmaster was a century and a half old, surely _that inn_ should still exist. Whoever was there at Hogwarts, at least Aberforth Dumbledore could be trusted. However, as she walked on and on, she found she could not identify any of the familiar shop fronts. Where were all the brick cottages? They seemed to be replaced by wattle and daub…on and on she went, with Snape still bobbing behind her until exhaustion overcame her spell work causing both Snape and the disillusionment spell to abruptly fall.

The last thing that Hermione heard before she blacked out was Snape's cry as he fell.

Severus came to just as Granger collapsed on top of him. The pain increased ten fold. Was that even possible? God! She was heavy! Taking steady breaths to overcome his lightheadedness, he turned himself slightly to move from under her. After a moment to compose himself, he sat up, taking in his surroundings. They were near a village. He could see quaint wattle and daub houses in the distance. The air was cleaner and the castle was not visible. The cotswolds? No...the terrain was more rugged. Still in Scotland, then, possibly quite near Hogsmeade. _And was Granger wearing a frock?_

As he tried to get his bearings, Severus realised he was till alive. Coming to the realisation, he deduced that (a) somehow Granger had saved him and (b) his bleeding had somehow been controlled. His hand flew to his neck, and he felt a mechanical barrier stopping the blood flow, realising with a shock that under the carefully crafted and perfectly tied bandage, his throat was still ripped open. He tried (and failed) to suppress a shudder. He needed St Mungo's. Was it safe to go there? Who had won? If Granger came back to save him, it seemed obvious that Potter had seen his memories and shared its contents. Did Potter succeed? Was the Dark Lord dead? He hoped so. Poor Potter...he never really wished him dead.

Suddenly Severus decided he needed answers. He had played the pawn for nearly twenty years - almost all of his adult life. No more! The only person who could answer his questions lay before him - if _only_ he could ask his questions with his throat in tatters. With the last of his rather considerable will, he opened his throat and rasped out his own spell to knit back wounds. He had designed it specifically for wounds inflicted by Dark Magic, though it _was_ technically specific to sectumsempra. His injured throat made it impossible to sing it, but, when it came to the Dark Arts, what mattered was intent, and Severus poured his frustration of not knowing, of not being told, of his complete desperation for survival if only to finish his job and finally his feelings of love and duty into his chant, all the while mentally imagining the pure cadence of the song. To his surprise, he felt the flesh knit back, of his pain reduce. In a reckless move he ripped off the bandage - a move that could have killed him if the spell hadn't worked - but to his surprise, found his throat whole but for a scar.

Now he needed answers.

 _Enervate_

 **II**

 _15 days later, 17th May, 1813_

When Netherthorpe Cottage was let, there was nary a stir in the neighbourhood. Only the foremost of intelligence gatherers like Mrs Bennet had heard that it had been let to an older gentleman with six hundred pounds a year. While Mrs Bennet did share this news with Mr Bennet, she did so only in passing, out of habit, rather than by design. After all, six hundred pounds a year was merely comfortable, hardly a large income and certainly not enough to merit her interest as far as matrimonial match making was concerned. Indeed, even her brother and Mr Philips managed a thousand pounds, and _they_ were not even gentlemen. Kitty could indubitably do better. She was quite popular at Pemberley, and with Elizabeth's support, she should soon have a handsome gentleman courting her.

Thus, the news of _Netherthorpe cottage_ being let certainly did not merit the excitement of _Netherfield Park_ being let, nor did it necessitate the nearly military planning required that had resulted from that news and yielded the marriages of three of her five daughters. There was little for Mrs Bennet to gain in pursuing her new neighbour. He was merely a new curiosity. She did not attempt to persuade Mr Bennet to visit.

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 **AN: Updated with very minor edits for grammar.**


	2. Chapter I: Conversations

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

 **AN: I have been fortunate enough to get a beta, Hufflepuff Proud, who has my earnest thanks. If you spot any mistakes, they are my own, though I'd thank you to point them out. Also, thanks to all those who have visited, reviewed, or followed. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Feedback is both appreciated and welcome.**

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Chapter I: Contradictions and Conversations

"Good morning," said Severus as Granger woke with a start. He was attempting his usual snide tone but his voice came a hoarse whisper. To compensate, he positioned himself next to her head, so he could loom over her.

But intimidation tactics no longer worked with Hermione. She had broken into Gringotts, battled Bellatrix, survived torture and had faced Nagini. Severus Snape was tame in comparison, especially after she had gained an understanding of his motivations.

Snape was like a brightly coloured insect, Hermione thought rather uncharitably, (even though he dressed monochromatically) – harmless in fact, but indulging in the mimicry of something much more dangerous. She wondered if his life would have been easier had he not adopted his "Impressive Dark Wizard" persona. It had just made decent people suspicious of him and the powerful and power hungry, those he wanted to impress and associate with, use him.

It was a shame, she thought, absently, for he was skilful and did not lack in intelligence, but he never had been exceedingly powerful. He had so much potential. She remembered being envious of the Half-blood Prince. It galled her to admit, but he had been the more talented student, at least in Potions and Defence. And yet, his carefully constructed persona was just a façade. In hindsight, it was obvious that he was overcompensating. Slightly built, he dressed in layers of forbidding fabric, which billowed as he swooped down on unsuspecting students, making him look larger than he actually was. Not that it had deterred them, anyway. Hermione and her friends had been outwitting him since they were 11. She had set him on fire in their first year, stolen from him in their second year, and knocked him out quite easily in their third year. No, Snape could not intimidate her. Not her, a member of the trio who had defeated Voldemort for good.

Severus meanwhile was surprised to see Granger staring at him. It was an assessing stare, perhaps a judgemental one. It was a stare that every Slytherin learned in their first year. Severus did not like it. What was she thinking? And then accidentally, he was in her mind:

An image of her stealing from his potions storeroom, of her with her cohorts, knocking him out while he put his life on the line for their protection.

Ungrateful brat! Those ingredients had cost him a month's salary to replace! He had put himself in front of one of his greatest fears to protect them. Even now, after all his sacrifice she thought him a joke? But she had still saved him, he couldn't help thinking. Why did she save him? He had thought...did he still pathetically hope for respect? Did she do it to gloat, like Potter Sr.? To hold him in debt? And they treated Slytherins like filth. Holier than thou Gryffindor hypocrisy! He needed to occlude. He could not afford to break down. Not Snivellus! Not again, never, never again! Not in front of an eighteen years old girl. She had been his student. He NEEDED TO OCCLUDE! Hadn't she seen enough?

A moment and he was calm. In spite of his anger and humiliation, years of discipline allowed him to push his feelings back and concentrate on the matter at hand. He had questions and he wouldn't get any answers if he didn't ask them. He could have pried them from her mind, if he wanted to, but he prided himself on his ability to detach his emotions and optimise his decisions after cool deliberation. Such tactics were no longer needed. It was apparent from her mind that the war was over. Whether they acknowledged it or not, he had honour. His accidental legilimency had been an embarrassment in more ways than one. He should not have lost control. But that did not mean that he could ignore what he saw. He'd show her! All thoughts of apologising for his accidental invasion that had entered his mind before he processed the images he saw left him. He silently incanted a spell instead.

When Hermione tried to stand up to nullify the apparent difference in height that was Snape's poor tactic of intimidation, she found herself stuck to the ground.

Snape was smiling; it was a foul smile, that did not reach his eyes. She knew immediately that he was the cause of her hampered motility.

"I take it the Dark Lord is dead," he rasped as he looked her in the eye. "Would you prefer to give me an account of how these events came about or would you like mental broadcast?"

"I'd prefer to tell you, Sir," Hermione answered, realising with a mix of anger and embarrassment that he had been using legilimency. She lowered her eyes, which flashed as she did so. But discretion was better than valour.

"Indeed, " he whispered, his lips curving into a familiar sneer.

Hermione wondered whether he was acknowledging her statement, the fact that he had rudely pranced through her personal thoughts or his preference for fighting another day. Keeping her eyes down, she recounted to him the story so long denied to him by Dumbledore. She told him of Tom Riddle, of his parents and his quest for immortality. She told him about the horcruxes and how she, along with Harry, and Ron, had destroyed them. Finally she told him of shared blood and Harry's triumph, of the destruction of an unexpected horcrux and Voldemort's self-destruction.

When she looked up, she saw that Snape's face was a blank mask. She had never seen him so rigid, so obviously trying to maintain control - and she had seen him weak and vulnerable before. She had seen him shouting at an old school enemy manically (rival was too mild a word for the relationship Snape shared with Sirius), watched him terrified in front of his former master and witnessed him paralysed, bleeding on the floor in front of her. None of the expressions she had seen however matched the complete blankness of expression that she saw now. It was as if he was expending all his energy into maintaining his mask. It was so expressionless that she was sure there was extreme emotion involved. She looked back down. He obviously needed a moment to compose himself and she decided she would be gracious enough to give it to him, in spite of his rudeness earlier. She couldn't help but feel sympathetic.

Severus, was, as Hermione had deduced, confronting (and trying to contain) an emotional whirlwind.

Potter was alive! That BASTARD Dumbledore! Why could he not hint that Potter need not have die. The guilt! God! The guilt that had overwhelmed him when he had given Potter his memories, assuming that he had been sending the boy he had protected his entire life to his death. He had lost control when he had seen Potter in the shack, overwhelmed by a strange mixture of relief and anguish, while his blood gushed out of his throat. He did not even know which of his memories Potter had seen. He had meant to give him only three: of Dumbledore's orders, Dumbledore's directions for Potter and his doe depositing the sword. Potter was alive! Occlude, Severus, occlude. Fuck! Breathe, breathe, breathe…one, two, three…one hundred…phew. Relief.

"Why did you save me, Granger?"

She looked at him and said earnestly, "I think it is rather obvious, Sir. You are a hero. Probably the bravest man in this war. Harry announced it aloud, to Voldemort himself, in fact. If anyone deserves to live past the war, it is you. I apologise for not coming sooner. We all thought you were dead. Even had it been so, your body deserved more respect than lying on that filthy floor."

Severus looked at her in disbelief. A hero. She thought him a hero. She wasn't lying. He did not need legilimency to tell. A part of him warmed. But had she not just minutes ago been thinking of his humiliations, at her hands that too? What a contradiction…but then, hadn't he always been contradictory, himself? A half-blood Death Eater, a Death Eater in love with a muggle-born, an expert in both Dark and Light magic, for were they not two sides of the same coin? Both were intent based...

She had saved him. She hadn't gloated, and she hadn't mentioned a debt. No one had done something for him and not wanted anything in return. Lily's friendship was conditional: he needed to give up the Dark Arts. Dumbledore the Merciful merely wanted enslavement in return for the protection of a friend, Voldemort demanded blind obedience in return for power. He looked at Granger in wonder. It was almost difficult for him to believe her, and yet it was his truest wish. To be acknowledged.

"The legilimency was accidental," Severus found himself explaining, "I am sorry for the intrusion."

Hermione was embarrassed. She had not expected Snape to apologise and had assumed that he was merely indulging in his usual git-like behaviour. It was obvious now that Snape had been, even then, quite overwhelmed. Why should it have surprised her? He was obviously human. He had spent his life distrusted, had spent a year knowing that he would need to kill his "mentor", another year being ostracised by the very people he was trying to save, and then set upon by a large snake, all because he was trying to atone for something that was only tangentially his fault. It was a wonder that he wasn't gibbering.

"I understand, Sir. And thanks."

Severus looked at her, comparing Granger's response to his apology to one that he had tendered to another muggle-born over twenty years ago, marvelling yet again at Granger. He decided not to ponder on it. Near-death, the Dark Lord's defeat and Potter's survival were playing havoc with his mind. Lily was finally avenged. He would mull over the implications after he got away from the girl. He needed a change of subject.

"Tell me, Granger, why are you wearing a frock?"

With Snape's statement, Hermione suddenly recalled their circumstances, following the events of her rescue of Snape at the shrieking shack.

"I can't truly say, Sir," she said carefully, "A spell hit me in the back. A white flash later, the Shrieking Shack was gone, and you were there, lying on the ground and I only had with me my wand and my bag. If this is the afterlife, it is a very strange one indeed. And it's oddly selective.

"From my observations however, I hypothesise a temporal displacement curse of some sort. There does not seem to be a spatial displacement element, though such a possibility should not be precluded, after all, space-time is intimately interlinked. Initially, I felt that the effects of the spell were suggestive of a thaumaturgic entropic phenomenon, from which one could derive the spell on the basis of syntactical principles. It makes sense at first glance. Hogwarts was intact, a definite reduction in overall entropy…if one assumes that time is nothing but a series of changes in the state of matter…

"Anyway, I digress. The point is that my dress changed. There does not seem to be any energetically viable reason for that to happen. Indeed, the amount of cloth that I am wearing now is more than what I was earlier and has probably taken more energy to produce. More importantly, I am not the same person either. I can feel it. I haven't looked in a mirror, but presumably the differences are subtle. After all, you do recognise me, Professor. But I can feel that I am shorter than I was. I am certain I am in another body, which implies that we are not talking about continuous changes of state. At the same time, I am confident that I am Hermione Granger. Without having met anyone, I can only presume that I have hijacked another body and that we are in a different era."

"Fascinating analysis, Miss Granger. Pray when did you get the time to ponder this happenstance in such detail? I admit to some curiosity."

"When I realised the shrieking shack had disappeared. You were unconscious, Sir. I needed to make a decision: to approach Hogwarts for help or not. If we had travelled in time, to your Headmastership…we would probably not be welcome. The rest I thought of now, I was thinking aloud, Sir."

"Hmm…you are correct. A temporal shift seems most likely, though the nature of the shift…let us examine the facts. Firstly, a spell hits you and I am brought along with you and two inanimate objects. Second, you are wearing fashions of a different era, whilst my clothes remain unchanged. Finally, your body is not the one that you are familiar with - your body has not been temporally displaced while mine has. What can one hypothesise from this?

"First, that I am here because you are. You were the target of the spell, possibly an attempt at revenge by my erstwhile colleagues. I got transported, most likely because you were in some physical contact with me. You were bandaging me, I gather. My thanks, by the way. The same goes for your wand and your bag. You were touching them, so they came with you. Had you been touching the shack, I believe that we may have had a roof over our heads, but no matter…

"Second, I have time travelled, as have your wand and your bag. You – or your body at least – belong whenever we are - assuming of course that we have travelled in time. Now this is where it gets interesting. If we have indeed been temporally displaced, we can infer that the object of the spell was not a place, or indeed a time, but a person who happened to be in some place or a time – otherwise you'd have merely found yourself in the, I presume, past, as I have. The white flash is indicative of this. There are few spells that generate white light. Most have blues and yellows and greens and reds, as I am sure you know. I won't be surprised if this is the first spell with a white light that you have seen for spells of this class are forbidden and exceedingly potent. White light is after all made up of all seven colours. The implications...Miss Granger, I am confident that this is soul magic."

Snape's voice, already hoarse after Nagini's ministrations, had become barely audible by the time he finished speaking. Hermione stood stunned. Soul magic. The darkest and the lightest of all magic…she wondered how this spell classified. She realised that she was, for all intents and purposes, in another incarnation.

"Let us find in which era we are, shall we?" Snape croaked, "I suggest we disillusion ourselves lest we seem out of place."

They side-along apparated to London to find a copy of _The Times_. They were in May, 1813. Nearly two hundred years in the past. No wonder Hogsmeade hadn't been familiar. Hosgmeade had, after all, been completely rebuilt in 1859, after a fight involving fiendfyre.

Problems of temporal displacement brought a unique set of problems. Neither of them had bank accounts here. They needed food. They needed money. They needed shelter. They were also sure to encounter culture shock sooner or later. But first things, first. Money and food.

Severus had a few galleons in his pocket, but would they be legal tender in 1813? Could they go to goblins to exchange them for pounds or whatever their current currency was? He wished he had paid more attention to Binns droning on in history class. Granger! She was a know-it-all, he thought desperately. He had heard from Minnie McGonagall (she was always Minnie in his mind, it was his way of getting back at his stuck up old instructor) that she actually paid attention to Binns. He decided to ask.

"Granger, would galleons from 1998 be considered legal tender?"

"Of course. Wizarding money has been the same for over one thousand years. Did you know they actually circulate the same coins? Very rarely are new coins minted. It is the goblin version of inflation control, I believe. Professor Binns covered this as a part of the wizard-goblin relations in the 11th century. The goblins set up the banking system for wizards and bespelled every coin so that it could not be duplicated or modified. For example, you can't melt the coins and recover their value in gold. The coins have goblin made security features that are unknown to wizard-kind. Disagreements regarding some of these spells led to the 1st goblin rebellion…I wouldn't know the current exchange rate, though."

It turned out that the exchange rate did not turn out too poorly for them.

After a few cleaning charms, they had decided that they were presentable enough for a trip to Gringotts. Their trip was uneventful, though walking through Diagon Alley was a pleasure. There was a passing familiarity that had been missing since the spell had transported them to 1813. They had both opened accounts in their names and exchanged part of their money to muggle money.

Hermione had a small fortune in galleons, which she had provisioned for her year on the run. Of the almost four hundred galleons that she had in her purse, she changed fifty galleons into a hundred pounds. While the exchange rate was lower than it had been in 1990s, it seemed that the Galleon was actually a very strong currency. Gold prices really had nothing to do with the exchange rate. Snape on the other hand, as someone not on the run, had only what was in his pocket – twenty five galleons and ten knuts – of which he had fifteen galleons and the knuts changed to thirty pounds, four pennies and a ha'penny, and had the rest deposited in his account.

They now needed to determine the identity of the body occupied by one Miss Hermione Granger, but neither had the energy to pursue it at the time. They were both exhausted. Snape more so, for he had nearly died of blood loss. The fact that he was still standing was a testament to his stubbornness. They were both glad to see the Leaky Cauldron, where they ate a hearty meal of soup, roast duck and pudding accompanied by elfish wine, before being showed to their rooms where they slept like the dead.

The next morning exhaustion truly set in. While Hermione was tired, Severus truly felt how close to death he had come and the soreness of his throat made itself known. Their innkeeper, a small man with a moustache and kindly eyes, seemed to sense this and brought them a hearty breakfast of oatmeal, sausages and mashed potatoes rather than the usual bread rolls and preserves. They washed their breakfast down with tea sweetened with honey, which brought a degree of relief to Severus' throat. Despite how much they wished to remain at the Leaky Cauldron, their uncertain finances and position meant that they needed to first establish their situation rather than allow themselves time to recover. They agreed upon their order of business:

1\. Find out whose body Hermione Granger was currently inhabiting

2\. Understand and attempt to reverse the curse

3\. Learn the etiquette of the era

4\. Find a source of income

5\. Find friends

Hogwarts would be a good starting point to learn more about Hermione Granger's current identity and the curse she was hit with. The student register should potentially give a clue regarding Granger's identity, while the library could have something on the curse. They would pick up a book on etiquette in muggle London. The wizarding world was slow to change, and most people they had seen in Gringotts had worn robes. There had been an old man who looked as if he had stepped out of a Shakespeare play, though. Finding an income would be a challenge. It would be easy enough to get an un-skilled or semi-skilled job somewhere, but from what Severus understood of the "past", at least a muggle job in this era was undesirable. Could he get a job in the magical world? He was skilled but had no "official" existence. Would he be considered an immigrant? What about the paperwork? It would be easy to forge muggle documents, but forging a magical identity would be challenging. Perhaps he could find his ancestors. Maybe family could take him in…

He would come to that later. They needed to break in to Hogwarts later today. It was imperative that they did not mess up the life of whoever's body Granger was inhabiting out of ignorance.


	3. Chapter II: The Headmasters of Hogwarts

**AN: Sorry for the delay. My Beta's final exams are underway, and will be going on for some time. In order to get on with the story, I am posting this (unbeta'd) chapter anyway. To be honest, the delay also stems from the fact that I am disappointed with this chapter. It doesn't flow the way I wanted it to. I would appreciate any criticism on how to improve it. My next chapter is ready and shall be updated next week (I am much happier with that one :P).**

 **Usual disclaimer...**

Chapter II: The Headmaster of Hogwarts

Hermione Granger was destined to break into every high security establishment of any importance in the British wizarding world. She had broken into the Ministry, indeed the Department of Mysteries itself, and stolen from Gringotts. So why not Hogwarts as well? With greater experience in breaking and entering (and indeed, outright burglary), than Snape, it was thus Hermione who strategized the break in.

In her typical systematic fashion, Hermione outlined three possible strategies to gain entry into Hogwarts. Their first option was to try the vanishing cabinet at Borgin and Burke's, for that establishment had been selling questionable artefacts to the wizarding populace in Knockturn Alley since 1743. Indeed, much of wizarding London was much the same as it was in 1998. Their next option was to attempt entry via the two passageways from Hogsmeade that Hermione was acquainted with. However, as they had previously noted, Hogsmeade was much changed, so finding ways to enter Hogwarts from there could be challenging. If that too failed, they would improvise.

Knockturn Alley was, as Hermione had imagined, much the same as it had been in 1998, and attracted exactly the same kind of people. She found herself quite out of place in a Muggle dress, drawing the stares of many people, most unfriendly. Snape, on the other hand, she saw, fit in rather well in his black robes and confident stride. Browsing through Borgin and Burke's was a disappointment, however. It seemed that the vanishing cabinet had not come into their possession and was never a part of their inventory.

A meagre lunch of bread and cheese, later, they found themselves on a grassy knoll overlooking Hogsmeade.

They spent a few hours in 19th century Hogsmeade, moving about disillusioned, trying to find the location of the future Hogs Head pub and Honeydukes sweet shop. At the location of the Aberforth Dumbledore's future, rather seedy pub, was a bookstore that seemed to sell texts suited for the Hogwarts students. The store was manned by a witch with a disposition that made Snape seem friendly. Even so, as a former Hogwarts Professor who knew the limitations of a school bookstore, Snape was able to engage the saleswitch, and distract her into looking for obscure volumes (which Snape was confident would not be available), while Hermione hunted for the elusive passage. She enquired with portraits, discreetly performed revealing charms, tapped her foot on the wooden floor, feigning impatience, to no avail. Finally, after they could test the patience of the saleswitch no longer, they left after purchasing a copy on Muggle-Wizarding relations.

Their next stop was a wand shop of a kind neither had seen before. Unlike the dusty and solemn Ollivander's where both had purchased their wands from, this wand shop oozed luxury. Even though both Hermione and Snape had their wands in their possession, they could not resist looking at the shop's collection. There were metal wands, and horn wands, and wands encrusted with precious stones. There also seemed to be a collection of staffs. All the items seemed prohibitively expensive. The ands on display reminded Hermione of Lucius Malfoy's pretentious wand, with its specially moulded grip and ornate cane sheath. Their browsing was interrupted by a sneering, pompous Saleswizard, who obviously disapproved of Hermione's Muggle attire. He addressed them and asked, "How may I help you?" in a tone that suggested he could not fathom how disreputable people such as themselves could even consider being helped by anyone, let alone in an establishment of this sort.

Hermione saw Snape assume a mask of disdain, ignoring the man completely as he browsed through the various articles on display, as if everything in the shop was disappointing. Assuming a Malfoy-esque condescension, and a sneer that put to shame the saleswizard's expression, he compelled the (until then) patronising shopkeeper into reaching for and retrieving the heaviest, the most delicate and the most difficult to reach items in the shop. He then critically examined each of these items and explained in painstaking detail why he found them wanting. Hermione could hear Snape berate the shopkeeper on how the wand studded with rubies was a heath hazard – it was obvious that he could hurt his hand while performing the most basic of charms, pointing at the gem shaped indentations on his pale hand. Snape continued to deride the shopkeeper, while dangling the carrot of wanting to have a wand commissioned. Apparently being spoken to like an insect had revised the saleswizard's opinion of Severus Snape. Snape's rudeness, to the poor saleswizard, was a mark of quality. Hermione had used the distraction to search through the shop quite thoroughly and again, came across nothing. It was evening when Snape expressed his parting words of disappointment and left the shop with Hermione by his side. They still were no closer to breaking into Hogwarts.

That left improvisation…

Hogwarts loomed grey under an overcast, gloomy sky, which threated to drench the duo approaching the castle from just beyond the apparition boundary. The forbidden forest lay at the opposite end, at the other edge of the school a few hundred yards from the Gamekeeper's hut. For both Hermione and Snape, it had always been Hagrid who had stayed there. Who occupied that modest building now? Whoever the current occupant, it was unlikely that they would take strangers breaking into Hogwarts kindly. Poachers did not go on holiday. The hut was probably occupied.

It was a pity, Severus thought, that he was no longer Headmaster. He could have just walked up to the Gamekeeper (who was also the Keeper of the Keys) and demanded to be let in. As it was, they would have to find more creative ways to enter.

Wait! Could it be so simple? Hogwarts was, to some extent sentient. Snape had been (unlike Umbridge), an accepted head of the school. In the absence of the actual headmaster, could the school allow access to another who had been entrusted with the safety of the school? A proxy? It was worth a try.

Severus strode towards the iron gate, and placed his wand at the lock. After some time, the gate groaned open, allowing them entrance into the grounds of Hogwarts. They walked past the black lake, Severus acknowledging the giant squid as he passed, and soon they were at the front door, which took very little persuasion in opening. It shouldn't have, Severus thought, there was an incumbent headmaster, and it wasn't him. Perhaps being the only Head to swear an oath to safeguard Hogwarts and her students had something to do with it? It had seemed a humiliating lack of trust, then, when Dumbledore's portrait had ordered him to say the words and sign his name in blood over an enchanted parchment, seconds after he had entered the Headmaster's office. It had been a safeguard, Dumbledore had stated, that Snape could never be forced to harm anyone while serving as Headmaster at Hogwarts. Small mercies!

Severus walked into the great hall with mixed feelings. Hogwarts had been both his personal hell and his sanctuary. He had spent all but the first eleven years of his life in these very halls. It was strange not being bound to return for the first time in his life. And yet was he not was bound as his ability to enter showed? He was almost confident that the gargoyle would open the Headmaster's office for him. It would be strange not to see Dumbledore's portrait on the wall. Even so, he'd meet those who had kept him sane in that last horrible year. He'd like to see Dilys again, she had always been nice and inspired him to go on in spite of all the hate.

He was walking alone through the empty great hall, he saw. "Granger! Stop gaping and enter. It would not do to be discovered."

Hermione had been astonished when the doors had opened for Snape. She had forgotten he had been Headmaster, and she felt like an idiot for not suggesting this approach earlier. And then she had seen the great hall. Completely empty – the house tables had all been cleared and only the Hogwarts tapestries remained. Even sparse, the hall looked whole, unmolested by the war that made martyrs out of children. She couldn't help but think of her first day at Hogwarts, when the Express had brought them to this very hall, and they had all been overwhelmed by wonder. And then, the war…the sombre sky above her reflected her mood, and Hermione found herself transfixed. How she hated Voldemort and wished she could stab his body over and over again!

Snape's voice snapped her out of her reverie, "Yes sir," she called out as she closed the doors behind her and followed Snape to the gargoyle that guarded his erstwhile office. The gargoyle leapt aside with alacrity, which Hermione interpreted as the gargoyle equivalent of respect, and they rode up the spiral staircase into a circular office that, while still impressive, lacked the Dumbledore's accoutrements that had once defined the space.

"What do you think you are doing here, young man?" asked a rather crotchety voice from the portrait of a thin, ready former headmaster with a ear trumpet. Then, sighting Hermione by his side, "and you too, girl! Answer or I shall summon the ghosts to have you escorted out."

"Really, Richard," Snape replied superciliously, "There's no need for threats. I will explain the situation to you, but I do demand your oath of confidentiality. Your loyalty is my right as Headmaster."

"The impertinence!" Professor Richard Reading sputtered, "How dare you address me so familiarly? And what nonsense do you speak? Do you think portraits turn senile with age? I am very aware that Professor Smythe is the Headmaster! Elf! Elf!" the painted Headmaster screeched, "Have these delinquents reported to the ministry immediately!"

The ancient elf that entered the office with a soft pop was easy to reason with. When it was pointed out to the little being that Hogwarts itself had allowed them entry and that the gargoyle had admitted them in, Moppy agreed that it was obvious that Snape was here as Headmaster, however temporary that position may be.

Moppy then asked Headmaster Snape, much to the disgust of Professor Reading, if he'd like anything to eat and when the reply was in the affirmative, brought a sumptuous feast, freshly prepared from the kitchens.

Severus was enjoying himself. Hogwarts had virtually proclaimed that he was Headmaster Emeritus, something that no previous Head had been, and the castle would always be a sanctuary. If nothing panned out, he would at least manage room and board, here, even if he did have to occupy the Room of Requirement to maintain secrecy. With relief at obtaining some degree of security, Severus found himself in an exceedingly gracious mood. Getting into the role of acting an early 19th century gentleman (and to wrong-foot Granger), he proceeded to show her to the elegant dining nook off the Headmaster's office and draw her a chair. They enjoyed an excellent tea, with crumpets, rolls and pastries, while most portraits (Professor Reading not amongst them) looked on amused.

After their sumptuous tea, and finally extracting a promise from former headmasters to keep mum about the account that they would be told, (it took an hour of negotiations to iron out the terms of the promise), Snape recounted their story and stated the purpose of their "visit". Their story was regarded with disbelief, and when Hermione displayed some of the contents of her bag, with wonder.

"So you think she is in a different incarnation while you are just along for the ride?" asked Professor Vindictus Viridian, a former Slytherin and the reason the negotiations had taken as long as they had.

"It rather seems so," replied Snape

"A pre-incarnation spell of some sort, then. Generally requires a soul sacrifice...hmm...should have been a body in the same room, fatally wounded physically, cursed death would interfere with the spell...am I right? There was a victim, possibly stabbed or with a slit throat?"

"That would be me, attacked by a snake, barely survived."

"Impossible! There needs must be a soul sacrifice, unless...you've split your soul!" Professor Viridian exclaimed in horror, "Murderer! Get out!" he shouted.

"I assisted a suicide," said Snape with a blank face and burning eyes.

Professor Viridian looked at Hermione for confirmation. After witnessing her slight nod, he seemed lost in thought for a few moments murmuring to himself, "It is better this way. Hogwarts would not have permitted entry to a murderer. The wards..."

He was silent for a while, pondering what he had heard, until he cried out, "Good heavens, girl!" he said startling Hermione, "You are lucky you've only reached 1813! If young Mr Snape were dead, you would inevitably be transferred to your very first incarnation. A spell of this sort can take you as far back as possible, and if certain Eastern schools of Magic are to believed, you could very well have been pre-incarnated into a plant or an animal – you'd only need to be a living entity. Reversing such a change, a neo re-incarnation, say, while theoretically possible, would be rife with the same risks and would require a similar sacrifice. Taking these facts into consideration, I suggest that for all intents and purposes you consider yourselves permanent immigrants to the 19th century."

"You seem to know of this spell. We were afraid that it would only be with great difficulty that we would be able to find out anything about it."

"Standards must have fallen indeed, if the Headmasters of Hogwarts can no longer be relied upon to serve as points of reference." Professor Viridian said rather pointedly, frowning, "Really boy, I do hope you deserved the honour of being elevated to our company. The pre-incarnation spell is obscure but not completely unknown. You were a Gryffindor, I assume? They do have a tendency of imagining some kinds of magic beneath them"

Snape flushed anaemically. It was Hermione who answered, "Sir, Professor Snape is an accomplished spell crafter and potioneer as well as an expert in the mind arts. Our ignorance stems from perhaps a purge of all material dealing with soul magics. I know for a fact that certain books, deemed to discuss dangerous magic, were removed from the Hogwarts shelves by our former Headmaster. He was indeed a Gryffindor, as am I. It is likely that the knowledge that you so obviously have, had been purged by the time Professor Snape came to school."

Surprised by Hermione's answer in defence of the dour young man, Professor Viridian, never one to mince words, could not help asking, "What exactly is the relationship between the two of you?"

Severus saw Granger scowl and answered dryly, "Comrades in arms."

After some thought, he added, "Miss Granger has a pathological need to fix everything. I was, perhaps still am, her latest project. I would not insinuate anything if I were you, for Miss Granger would not think twice before introducing your likeness to turpentine. I have heard her described as 'brilliant but scary' and know enough to be confident that the phrase is no exaggeration."

Professor Viridian looked at the determined young woman and remarked with the air of a sensationalist, "A veritable heroine! A campaigner for truth and justice! A champion of the underdog!"

"Indeed. I would like to think so," accepted Hermione with a bright smile.

He watched the girl's smile intensify, and observed that her expression held a degree of calculation. She was indeed capable of bathing his portrait in turpentine, de decided, if she felt she had something to gain (she did not, thankfully) and if it worth her effort. Oddly enough, this ruthlessness instilled in him a degree of respect. It was rare indeed to find someone who had their heart in the right place and the will to do what it took.

He thus found himself saying more soberly, "Miss Granger, you must excuse my dramatics. These are admirable traits. I am proud that Hogwarts continues to produce alumni such as you. Should you ever be in need, I would consider myself fortunate to be of help, as I am sure would be most of my painted colleagues. You have my word that I shall not share your secrets with anyone, including the current - and I do not mean Professor Snape - Headmaster of Hogwarts." He stood up within his gilt frame and bowed.

Hermione realised that she had passed some sort of test, which she took in her stride. It was long past the time that she felt the need to please anybody, though she acknowledged to herself that she could use his help. "Sir," she said, taking him up on his offer immediately, "I am looking for the identity of my pre-incarnation and would like to look at the Hogwarts register for incoming admissions from seven years ago. Where may I find it?"

Professor Viridian pointed her to the drawer that contained the register and gave the password to Snape, for only the Headmaster or his deputy could access the book. The class list showed a total intake of about ten muggleborns, of whom eight were admitted to Hogwarts and two declined. Snape was confident from Hermione's dress and lack of wand that Hermione was either a muggle or had been brought up as one. As the former possibility had been eliminated, it followed that it was likely that Hermione Granger was one of the students who had declined to come to Hogwarts, which meant that she was, as the yellowed page in the register noted:

Miss Mary Bennet,

The Third Bedroom,

Longbourn, Hertfordshire.

"Longbourn is a gentleman's estate, " said Professor Dilys Derwent from her frame. She had been Muggle born, and had grown up not far from in Herfordshire. "If you are to assume Miss Bennet's identity, Miss Granger, I would suggest that you prepare yourself well. As a Muggle gentlewoman, you would be subject to a degree of social expectations that you are probably unaware of. I suggest you acquaint yourself with them. You will find most of them, stifling. I know I did, and being born to a exceedingly common family I was not subject to most of them. I wish I could help you, but my knowledge is a century too old.

"More importantly, though, you will have to explain your absence in a way that would not cause scandal. I would suggest that you make your presence known at Longbourn as soon as possible. It would prevent gossip. I would suggest confunding an eminently respectable neighbour, preferably an old widow into saying that she sheltered you for a day. It would certainly not do to turn up at your door with him." She thrust a two-dimensional finger in, what could only be interpreted as, Snape's direction.

It was thus that Severus Snape and Hermione Granger decided to go their separate ways, at least for the time being. Hermione charmed two notebooks for the purpose of communication, and handed one to Snape. Hermione would be going to Longbourn, while Snape would attempt to establish an identity for himself.

Not long after, Hermione found herself in Hertfordshire. The countryside was beautiful, even under the poorly illuminated evening sky. Intending to follow the suggestion of Professor Derwent to confund a suitable Muggle, Hermione found herself at the door of old Mrs Higgs, who ran the Higgs farm after the death of her husband. The old woman had been kind to her, and Hermione found herself unable to mess with her mind. Hermione did manage to spin an unhappy tale suggesting that Miss Mary Bennet had fallen, lost consciousness and had convalesced through the night in Mrs Higgs barn, for the use of which she was exceedingly grateful. It was only about an hour ago that she found herself being able to bring herself up to the house. When Mrs Higgs insisted that Miss Bennet stay the night yet again, this time more comfortably in the house, Hermione requested that word be sent to Longbourn to inform her family and assuage their concern.

The next morning, Miss Mary Bennet woke up to the chirping of birds and the presence of a carriage come from Longbourn. After a hearty breakfast of porridge and the declaration of thanks, Hermione stepped into the carriage with a degree of trepidation and headed for "home".


End file.
